Set this motley tapestry of emotions alight
and watch it burn.
Convert these unsought sentiments to sparks;
watch them dance into oblivion.
Let me feel nothing.
Free me from the tireless grip of purgatory.
We pray for rest,
but hope means death,
and living—
Living can be bought but at unfathomable cost.
Tear down the four walls of this time-stopped room
and set me free.
Let flames lick clean the bones of what we knew,
and when there’s nothing left but this stabbing pain,
let me feel nothing.
Let me sit in ashes,
lost in the stinging smoke of guilt,
for guilt is grief,
and grief is love,
and though the smoke may lift, an ember of a memory burns on.
Aly Writes 